You Could Be the Entertainment. You Might Be the Genius 


“A genius is the one most like himself.” —Thelonius Monk.  

We’ve all heard jokes about you being original. “You think you’re original? I wonder what percentage of the nearly 8 billion in the world consider themselves original? What percentage of the billions who lived before us thought they were original?”

What is original? Is it even possible to be original? Was Homer, author of the Odyssey original? What about Leonardo da Vinci, Dostoyevsky, or The Beatles? Most music critics stopped using the word ‘o’ from their reviews, because anytime they drop the word, the snipers come out to talk about all the influences they hear. If it’s impossible to be original, is it possible to create something uniquely personal? Is it possible to take all of your influences, artistic and otherwise, and do your thing so often that you find you? Will it be without influence? What is? No work of art is free of influence, and no influence is free from personal interpretation. Should you even try to be original if it’s impossible? With nearly 8 billion in the world and billions who have preceded us in history, the chances of you being somewhat redundant or derivative are pretty high?

If you can get passed the lengthy confusing originality-is-not-possible algorithm, you could do something that is so you that you might feel naked when it’s over. You might want to consider deleting the vulnerabilities that incriminate you, or you might not. If you leave it all in, it’s possible that some long-dead artist, who many consider one of the most original artists to walk to planet, might’ve considered you ingenious.    

Everyone started out wanting to be somebody else. We don’t start out all pure and raw. We lacked knowledge, skills, and the sense of security necessary to expose ourselves completely. We felt icky about ourselves when we started. We were insecure, we feared we had no talent, and we thought we were boring, or at least we’re not as entertaining as that guy.

Look at him, he’s got it all figured out. Every woman I know wants to sit with him and chat, he’s got a wad of dough, and everybody likes him. And funny, ohmigosh, if I could be just a little bit like him for one minute of one day, people might want to be around me, they might like me, and they might read me. We add a pinch of ourselves along the way. The other guy over there, he’s all calm, cool, and collected. He’s radiating self-possession. If I could wrap his aura around my neck for just one night, it could all be different. We add a dash of ourselves to it. At some point, in the painfully gradual process, we shed their skin and become more like ourselves, and if we become more like ourselves than anyone else can, it might be ingenious. Monk’s quote might be my new favorite quote.  

2) “We might as well be ourselves,” Oscar Wilde said, “everybody else is taken.”  

“I wish I could be more like Jarod,” Todd said. “He doesn’t care if anyone likes him.”  

Most of us don’t say such things aloud. We might think it. We might think Jarod has something ingenious going on, but we don’t talk to him to find out what he has. It’s understood. We develop a construction from afar, and we try to become it.

I talked to one of my constructed images once. As much as I tried to avoid it, I couldn’t help but convey how much I thought of him. I didn’t say anything along those lines, but I was so obvious about it that I could see it on his face. We were walking away from football practice, and he started dropping a slew of swear words on me. He wasn’t cursing at me. He was swearing in the smoothest manner he could find. I picked up a strange vibe. He appeared to be trying to live up to whatever image he thought I had of him. The idea that he tried so hard confused me, because he was the guy everyone wanted to be, and I was the anonymous nerd who faded into the background of whatever room I was in. I needed to develop skills to stand out. This guy accomplished it by just being him, or so I thought. In our brief exchange, I realized that I didn’t want to be him anymore than I wanted to be me. I realized that if I was going to continue to try to live up to the constructed images I had of people, the pursuit was probably better than the prize. I also realized that if I was going to project images upon guys like him, I probably shouldn’t talk to them.  

“You’re the entertainment,” I told Todd after he wrapped up his gripes about Jarod. “You’re the entertainment in the room, and you don’t even know it.” 

3) “You are who you are when nobody’s watching.” ― Stephen Fry

My goal in life is to control situations as often as I can. If I encounter a situation fraught with failure, I take over, because I would rather blame myself for failure than someone else. I see parents put their kids in awkward situations, and when these kids fail, the parents are shocked. They evaluate their kid’s failure by their own standards. I might over correct at times, and I might be what they call a helicopter parent, but I either try to frame failure according to age, or I try to prevent failure by taking control of the situation.

When my boy went to the refreshment stand in a restaurant to refill his cup, every instinct told me to just take the cup from him and do it myself, but I knew he had to learn, and I wanted to see who he was when he didn’t know anyone was watching. I stood back where he couldn’t see me, and I watched him. As he refilled his cup, I took a step back. It was painful to stand back and watch, but I couldn’t stop looking. After he spilled, I stepped back further. I wanted to see if he would clean it up himself. I wanted to see if he would look around after the spill. I didn’t realize until I smelled it, but I accidentally backed into the sphere of influence of an elderly woman. My first thought, when she expelled gas on me, was this might be her defense mechanism, warning me that I was too close. I thought of the octopus expelling an ink cloud to thwart the approach of predators. She couldn’t know if I was a predator, because she didn’t know me, so she probably considered it better safe than sorry when she let it go. I abided by her silent admonition by giving her distance. My boy cleaned up his mess without looking around, and he double checked his work to make sure his mess was all cleaned up. I made the right move by allowing him to make his own mistakes, and he unknowingly defined his character for me, but I paid a price for it. 

4) “Be it a song or a casual conversation. To hold my tongue speaks of quiet reservations. Your words, once heard, they can place you in a faction. My words may disturb, but at least there’s a reaction.” Slash, Dave Lank, and Axl Rose. 

Back when I talked to my constructed image of the star football player, I considered offensive vulgarity the more honest approach. No matter how confusing I considered his effort, I thought he was being real with me. He fit the prototype teenager, but we don’t see that when we’re teens. We were influenced by movies, TV, and music. We had lists of which movies used swear words, and how many times they swore in such movies. If we were movie critics, we would’ve awarded stars accordingly. We also loved music, and while we all appreciated great pop songs, a song without at least a little vulgarity or innuendo, too safe. We wanted to hear dangerous, risky music, and we craved that in all artistic venues. We demanded the same of ourselves. The more vulgar and crude the more honest. We wanted to hand the holy grail up to the person who didn’t care if we considered them offensive. The truth is offensive, we thought. “I speak truth, and what does it say about you that you can’t deal with it.” What does it say about you that you said it? “I gotta be me!” So, you’re an offensive person? It took us a while, but we realized that a cup is handed down to the artist, filled with their offense.  

Due to the fact that the material nature of Rilaly.com is relative and subjective, we cannot guarantee our readers will be entertained or enlightened. We are introducing our new insurance policy that a reader can purchase if they don’t know if they want to take a risk by reading it. If you are not entertained, or enlightened, we will refund any amount the reader paid to us to read this, minus the cost of the non-refundable insurance.  

Is Elizabeth Holmes the Face of Fraud or Failure?


If Elizabeth Holmes could’ve had an idea that worked, she could’ve been a contender, she could’ve been something real, and oh, the places she could’ve gone. The idea that we’re fascinated with this woman is obvious with all of the bios, documentaries, and news segments devoted to her. There are probably hundreds of different answers as to why, but I think it has something to do with the idea that her story is not a simple ‘person perpetuates fraud’ story. 


Elizabeth Holmes was found guilty by a jury of her peers of perpetuating fraud. That’s a fact, and the glaring headline, and it might influence everything we learn about her story. Her story is just the latest in the ever-present, not-going-to-end-anytime-soon Cringe-TV. We love to laugh, cry, and scream in horror, but we also love to cringe. There’s probably something wrong with it, as we shouldn’t love it this much, but when someone gives all their money to a con artist, and then they convince their friends and family to give their money to them too, we cringe with excitement. Do we think we’re better than the victims? If we did, we wouldn’t develop crinkles (cringe wrinkles) during our obsessive binges. Our motive, when watching these shows is not to find out if the fraudsters did anything illegal, but how they did it. 


After watching all of these shows, the viewing audience should ask themselves two questions. Did the 19-year-old sophomore at Stanford drop out of college to commit fraud, and if not, what did she know and when did she know it? Did Elizabeth Holmes want to become the next Steve Jobs so bad that she was willing to do anything to make that happen? Or, did that just kind of happen in the course of her troubled venture? Even though she was eventually deceitful, the idea that Elizabeth Holmes won over some of the intellectual glitterati of our nation is a testament to her talent, intelligence, and charm. She professionally seduced George Shultz, Henry Kissinger, David Boies, James Mattis, and, of course, Theranos Chief Operating Officer Ramesh “Sunny” Balwani. She also managed to secure $700 million in funding from the likes of Larry Ellison and Tim Draper. At its peak, her company Theranos, was valued at $9 billion. 


Watching Hulu’s bio Dropout, HBO’s Inventor, the 20/20 news segment, or reading any of the web articles devoted to her story involves a battle between cringes and knee-jerk reactions. One knee jerk reaction we have is to now say Elizabeth Holmes was a con artist who engaged in fraudulent activity to secure funds from investors. We then dismiss her on that basis, but how many world leaders, politicians, and other charismatic, skilled, and deceptive people have attempted to pull the wool over the eyes of those luminaries listed above? Another knee-jerk reaction is to say that Elizabeth Holmes was a young, blonde woman who had obvious appeal to old, grey men. They might have enjoyed meeting with her. They might have enjoyed her attempts to professionally seduce them, but what happened when those meetings ended? A cadre of advisors probably sat down with the old, grey men and poured through her books, and they had a pro and con discussion with a George Shultz. He took their advice under consideration, and he ended up believing her. At one point in the story, Shultz even believed Holmes over his own grandson. How many years of experience did George Shultz, and all of the names listed above, have dealing with con artists and fraudsters? What does that say about them that they fell for Elizabeth Holmes’ deception, and what does it say about her? If she had a product that actually worked, imagine how real her success could’ve been. 


The Theranos Corporation had a machine called the Edison, so named because lightbulb inventor Thomas Edison said, “I didn’t fail 10,000 times. The lightbulb was an invention with 10,000 steps.” How many careers were built out of try, try, and try again? Thomas Edison wasn’t excusing his failures. He was saying that he had to learn from the 10,000 misfires he made. Did Holmes’ Edison machine fail 10,000 times? “Who cares?” Holmes, Balwani, and all of the engineers and scientists could’ve answered. “Who cares if it fails 100,000 times. Imagine if we keep failing, and we learn everything there is to learn from those failures? Imagine if, one day, it works. We could transform the landscape.” The central question in this fiasco, to my uninformed mind, is is it possible that the Edison would have ever worked? If not, then we have beginning-to-end, no excuses, and full-fledged fraud on our hands, but what if Walgreen’s didn’t push for its arrival in their stores? What if Holmes and Balwani hadn’t pushed the engineers to make the Edison happen to satisfy Walgreen’s? Was it ever possible? Were the talented engineers and all of the employees they had on the payroll at Theranos for the money, or did they believe in Holmes’ dream? 


The Hulu bio Dropout depicts biochemist Ian Gibbons, who served as the chief scientist of Theranos, complaining that the Edison “is just not ready” for Walgreen’s. He was the first experienced scientist Holmes hired, his name was on all of the patents, and from everything we read about Gibbons, he was more than a believer. He was one of the chief architects of Holmes’ vision. The portrayals of Gibbons on the 20/20 story, the Hulu bio, and the HBO documentary The Inventor, suggest he was never a naysayer. They suggest that he just set rigorous benchmarks for the product. He doesn’t say, at any point, that this was a fictional dream that Holmes concocted (as a Stanford professor did), that it’s a fraud perpetuated on investors and the public, or that it will never happen. With all of his experience in the field of biochemistry, Ian Gibbons believed in the product, but he said it was just not ready to meet Walgreen’s timeline. There was a certain duality to Gibbon’s pleas however. He needed a job. He was in poor health, and he needed the health insurance that Theranos provided.  


What if they waited? Could they have waited? Would the money dry up if they delayed yet again? The stories of Elizabeth Holmes depict her as someone who had a natural gift for raising money. Could she continue to raise money at such a blinding pace, or were her chickens coming home to roost?  


Now that we know Elizabeth Holmes was successfully convicted of fraud, our knee-jerk reaction is to believe that the whole venture, from beginning to end, involved a years-long series of deceitful acts. Suggesting otherwise insults our intelligence. The details of her ambition suggest this whole venture was narcissism as opposed to altruism. Now that we all know this was a fraud, we tint our rose-colored glasses with such a heavy dark tint that we can’t see anything else. Did Holmes believe in this idea, at one point, or was she so desirous of her own Steve Jobs image that she would do anything to get it? In that light, she’s rightly depicted as a narcissist, but did she wear black turtle necks and lower her voice to become the next Steve Jobs, or were these façades her attempts to have the world take a 19-year-old (or however old she was at the time) blonde seriously, so she could sell an altruistic product to the masses, to save lives?   


In a fascinating, possible explanation of Elizabeth Holmes’ motivation for continuing “the lie”, behavioral economist Dan Ariely discusses a psychological experiment using a standard, six-sided die in the HBO documentary on this story The Inventor. In this experiment, the subject of the test is encouraged to predict the number of pips that will appear when the research scientist rolls the dice. One of the twists in this experiment is that the subject gets to pick the top or the bottom of the die, after the roll is complete. They keep that prediction, whether top or bottom, in their head. They don’t say it aloud. The scientists will give them a dollar for every pip on the die that appears with a correct prediction. If the number is one, they get one dollar, two for two, and six dollars if the number appears, top or bottom. In some cases, the die displayed one pip on the top and six on the bottom. “Which one did you pick?” the scientists ask, “The top or the bottom?”  


“The bottom,” they said, when the six was on the bottom.  


“Are you sure?”  


“Yes, I picked the bottom that time.” Boom, six dollars went into the subject’s pocket. In the next stage of the experiment, they are hooked up to a lie-detector to find that they lie some of the time to get the most money they can. The third part of their experiment involved charity. “All of the proceeds from a correct guess go to charity,” they informed the subjects. The scientists found that the subjects’ lies went up dramatically when the reward for their correct guesses went to charity.  


If Elizabeth Holmes genuinely believe Theranos was an altruistic venture that would eventually help save lives, then what was the harm of a few lies here and there? We all lie, and most of us lie for narcissistic reasons. What if we genuinely believed we could revolutionize the world, and as Holmes continually suggested we could spare our proverbial brothers and sisters from having to say goodbye to the world too soon? Would we fudge the numbers, lie to investors, and treat obnoxious employee questions the way Theranos did if it could buy a little time to see our dream actually come true?  


Elizabeth Holmes was told that this will never work by one of the Stanford professors she approached with her the idea. Our knee-jerk reaction, knowing what we know now is, why didn’t she listen? How many ingenious minds are told such things at the outset? Then we learn that another esteemed Stanford professor compared her to Mozart, Beethoven, Newton, Einstein, and da Vinci. Others said she might be the next Archimedes.  


Elizabeth Holmes had a childhood fear of needles, and she thought the products she and her team created at Theranos could spare future sufferers of this fear. She also thought that she could transform the medical industry. At some point, her dream ran into reality, which begs the old Watergate question: “What did she know, and when did she know it?” When she encountered Edison’s 10,000 failures with the Edison machine, she pushed on. Why did she push on? Did she believe in this machine, and this dream, that much? Or, was she in too deep? The cringe takes hold when the main character not only continues to lie, but she doubles down. “Why would you do that?” our cringe asks. “When it’s plainly obvious that you’re trying to swim out of a sand hole.”


How much pressure was Holmes under at this point? She had 800 employees counting on her, numerous investors, and friends and family counting on her to make this happen? She appeared on the cover of Forbes, Fortune, Bloomberg, and Inc. Magazine. She appeared on CNBC a number of times, spreading her gospel. How many of us could experience this level of adulation, coupled with the pressure that it entails, and say, “All right, well, we’ve failed ten thousand times, over the course of ten some odd years, and well, it looks like this thing doesn’t work, and it never will. Everyone can go home now. There’s nothing more to see here. We’re folding up shop folks, it’s now time to go home.” 


In the midst of our knee-jerk reactions and hours-long cringes, we turn to our wives and say, “At that point, right there, I would’ve been more forthcoming.” To which, our wife should’ve said, “And then what?” And then, after you’ve cleared your name of any fraud by declaring the dream over, everything is over. Everyone you know and love realizes that you’re not the golden child they thought you were yesterday. You’ll become a punchline, as everyone you know will begin to mimic and mock your forthcoming statement, and the life you knew for ten-plus years is over as you spend the rest of your life realizing that you peaked at thirty-years-old.   


Among the top CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, there is one characteristic common among them an uncommon belief in self. If Holmes shared this enviable trait, as many suggest she did, she believed she could overcome any obstacle before her, and to do so there are times when we might have to fudge and fib a little to encourage the skeptical and skittish around to trust our unwavering vision just a little bit longer? An edited number here and there to encourage the legions of media members and employees who worshipped you will mean nothing when this product finally reaches completion. When Theranos employees on the ground floor begin to ask questions, it’s fine, as long as they don’t discourage their fellow employees and spread poor morale. As long as they don’t violate their NDAs and speak to the press or their family and friends, we’ll be fine. Plus, forcing employees to sign NDAs is a common practice in Silicon Valley and the rest of the business world. Furthermore, the best CEOs learn to lean on some level of obfuscation to sidestep deep, penetrating questions regarding initial results of products during their gestational period. Did Elizabeth Holmes have an unwavering and uncommon belief in herself or her products, in a manner those in sales will say are one and the same?


*** 


“I’m not going to fall for this,” we say when we click on the app to watch an episode of Cringe-TV. We know the perpetrator has been convicted, and we know some of the details of the case, but we want to see the suffering. We want to see the faces of the people who were duped, and we want to laugh at them when they confess the extent of the betrayal went from hundreds to hundreds of thousands, and if we’re really lucky, we’ll see the face of that poor sap who dumped millions. We might see something wrong with us for enjoying it so much, but we keep watching.  


I just can’t wrap my arms around Elizabeth Holmes being a fraudster from beginning to end. As a former fraud investigator, I know she’s been convicted of fraud by a jury of her peers, but I can’t help but think Elizabeth Holmes believed in her idea for a majority of those twelve years and presumed 10,000 failures. I know many of the facts of the case, but I would love to know what happened to her when it became obvious that her products were never going to work. Did she and her team switch to Siemans’ products, and all of the other measures she used to allegedly defraud victims, or was she desperately seeking more time. Or did she fear that “What then?” question if she was totally forthcoming at some point.    

Fraud is perpetuated throughout our country on a daily basis from Silicon Valley to Bangor, Maine. How many of these acts are committed for purely narcissistic reasons, and how many of these paths are paved with altruistic intentions? We might never know what was going on in Elizabeth’s head throughout the trials and tribulations she experienced, and our knee-jerk reaction is to shut down all discussion on the matter with the fraud conviction, but think about what an incredible person Elizabeth Holmes could’ve been if she devoted all of the energy, talent, and intelligence that impressed so many luminaries of our society into something that actually worked.   

The other side of the coin, the elephant in the room that no one wants to discuss is that Elizabeth Holmes was a woman. Going through all the interviews of her investors, and all the luminaries who invested in her company, I couldn’t get that fact out of my head. Elizabeth Holmes was obviously charismatic, she had a excellent work ethic, oodles of talent, and she had unwavering belief, but would all these people, including the financial magazines who had her image on the cover of all of their magazines, have fallen for her claims if she was a regular forty-something male CEO making substantial and exciting claims? We can only speculate, of course, but I think the idea that she was a woman relaxed some concerns. They wanted her to succeed, and they wanted to be the ones who were so open-minded that they didn’t want to be the type to speculate that her claims were just unrealistic, because that might subject them to the “Are you saying all this, because she’s a woman?” charge. We’ll never know, of course, but I have to think that a regular fella wouldn’t have received the benefit of doubt.

Yellow Stripes


The Organic Sandwich  

“I’m burping peanut butter,” she said. 

“That’s funny, because I’m farting jelly. Now, if we could just get that guy over there in the corner, with a yellow-striped shirt on, to somehow make us some bread, we could have one hell of a sandwich.” 

“Who is he?” she asked. 

“No idea, but look at him. If anyone can make bread, my bet is it’s someone who looks like him.”  

You Should’ve Seen What I, More or Less, Saw  

Arnold knew what life had to offer when I met him. He’d been-there-done-that. He knew there was nothing more to life while on the never-ending quest for something more. “This isn’t something more,” he said anytime we shared an experience. “This is something less than what I’ve experienced already. You schlubs, who think this is something more, just haven’t lived the life I have.”  

Arnold lives his life pitying those who enjoy experiences. He’s already had them. A vacation is not as great as the one he had, a night out with a wild and crazy guy is not as fun as the one he had with a lunatic who knew how to have some fun. A weather anomaly is not as bad as the one he experienced in a different town, in a different year. “You think this is bad, you should’ve seen what I saw back when I was (whatever).” You Think This is Bad… will be the title of his biopic, if anyone has the excess cash necessary to fund such a project.  

“Stick with the Beatles,” he says when we express adoration for some new musician who attempts to create music. It’s always interesting to me when music snobs (of which I am an avowed member) suggest that because group B is not as great as group A, we shouldn’t listen to B, or any of the other letters in the alphabet. “Are you saying they’re better than the Beatles? All right then.” Case closed. Nothing to see here. Matter resolved. Now enjoy your life of listening to nothing but the Beatles, you’ll thank me later. For some of us, music is life. A new release by some otherwise unknown artist fuels us in ways that are tough to explain to someone who has already heard the best. We have an appetite for something different, not better, not just as good, different. Arnold doesn’t have that gene. Music is background noise to him.    

“It’s the Sun,” he says when we attempt to describe a Sunrise. “The Sun rises every day, and the average human being will see about 28,000 of them in their life on Earth.” All right, but how many do we look at, and how many do we see? “It’s the Sun.” For those who’ve experienced a Sunrise, appreciation suggests a level of cute and laughable naivete. 

Arnold is not a crotchety, old man, but he will be one day, and I suspect he will refuse to appreciate anything on his death bed. He might even try to been-there-done-that death, “You think this is bad, you should’ve seen my life.” Death will mean nothing to him, because he will look forward to something more. “What if this is it?” we’ve asked him. Arnold won’t hear it. He’s locked in on the idea that nothing can top what he’s already done while being unimpressed with it in the moment and looking for something more. “What if there isn’t anything more?” We’re not attempting to open a can of worms. We’re not suggesting that there isn’t always something more. We’re suggesting that he might want to stop comparing life to what was, what could be, and maybe train a little more focus on what is, because we will all, eventually, find out if there is anything more soon enough.

I love to watch things on TV.  

“Who do you think is going to win?” I asked Vito. Vito and I were watching two people get ready to play a game of pool from a neighboring table. We were so bored that I felt boring. We were absently watching a college football game between two boring teams. My question was so random that if Vito declared that he didn’t care who won at pool, and his ambivalence was convincing, I would’ve moved on without giving the matter a second thought. Vito didn’t do that, however, he tried to sidestep the question. 

“I don’t know,” Vito said. “I really don’t. I haven’t watched them, and I cannot gauge their abilities.”  

“I know you don’t know who’s going to win,” I said. “Either do I. That’s the fun of randomly picking a guy. We do that. Guys do that when we’re in a bar together. We randomly do things to have random fun. We could cheer these guys on in a way that makes them so uncomfortable that they ask us what’s going on. Then, we could tell them-”  

“I’m not in the game of making predictions,” he said, interrupting me. Yet, he was into making predictions. He did it all the time, but he only picked overwhelming favorites, so he could be right. We all enjoy being right, and Vito was no different, except by the matter of degree he cared. He cared so much that when the two combatants were somewhat evenly matched, he refused to put his reputation on the line for what amounted to a guess. He dropped that “I’m not in the game of making predictions” into those occasions so often that I considered it his character-defining line. If someone with enough excess cash on them to make a biopic on his life approached me for ideas on a title, I thought this would be an excellent one.    

“Let’s put a friendly wager on it?” I pressed. Vito squirmed. “Pick either one, and the loser buys the next pitcher.” Even though the pool balls were racked, these pool players took their time. They drank their beer slowly and chatted with another table near them. They stood astride their pool sticks, like warriors preparing for battle, while they chatted. I didn’t understand why these guys took their time. They paid by the hour for the table. Either they had too much money, or they liked being players more than they like playing.  

When Vito said, ‘I haven’t gauged their abilities’ he meant it. He thought his abilities to gauge talent was his talent. If we bet on two girls playing hopscotch, Vito might take out a slide rule to measure the muscle mass in their thighs. He might want to talk to the players before making an assessment, and he might ask them to do a couple of run-throughs before reaching an assessment worthy of a Vito declaration. Even in a pool hall, on a boring and random Friday night, he hesitated, thinking I might bring my victorious bet back to the office and thereby ruin his reputation 

“C’mon,” I said. “It’s one pitcher of beer.” 

“I’m not a gambler,” Vito said. 

“I’m not either,” I said, “but this might make this otherwise boring night a little fun. 

“Sorry,” he said.  

At this point in our article, the reader might think that the importance of Vito’s vaunted prediction record was all in his head. It wasn’t. To my dismay, I heard someone else say, “Vito predicted that” the morning after an overwhelming favorite demolished an underdog. “So, did I,” I said to interrupt the conversation this guy was having with a third party. “Everyone did. Everyone knew they would win,” I said to proverbially bite the head off the poor chap.  

That was the only time anyone validated Vito’s prediction record, but it got under my skin when he would say, “Team A will beat team B, you heard it here first folks.” I couldn’t hide my disdain, and I always said something. I couldn’t abide by this violation of the bro code silently.   

The primary driver of Vito’s need to establish a vaunted prediction record was that he wasn’t much of a sports fan. When he would predict a victory of the overwhelming favorite, I think he believed it gained him some entrée into our world.  

“What does this do for you?” I asked him without offering my opinion. “What does this prediction game do for you?”   

He said nothing.  

“I have bad news for you. No one cares. Now, if you picked an overwhelming favorite and gave the underdog twenty points, or something, we might care, maybe, but you won’t do that, because you’re not a gambler. Have you ever predicted an upset?”  

He said nothing. He just pulled his beer up to his mouth with a half-smile in a way that suggested he knew something I didn’t. That was it, I decided. That was his game, his mystique. His affectation in life was to suggest he knew something we didn’t.  

“I’ll pick. The guy with yellow stripes,” I said. “Always bet on yellow stripes.”   

“I’m not in the game of making predictions,” he said as if he never said it before.  

“You watch too much TV,” we said. “Professional prognosticators, who use that line, get paid for analysis. They also get paid for being right and fired for being wrong. No one is going to pay you wooden nickel for your predictions, and no one is going to care if you’re wrong. You watch too much TV.” 

For the record, yellow stripes won and Vito said, “I knew it,” after the match was over. I still don’t know if he meant it, or if he was being sarcastic, but that line has been a comedic mainstay in my repertoire ever since. I’ve used that line to sarcastically note that I made an impossible prediction after the fact. It’s also an ode to a scene in The Simpsons (S3, E21 The Frying Game) in which Carmen Electra dressed up as recently murdered Myrna Bellamy, and when Electra removed her costume to reveal it was Carmen Electra, Homer said, “I knew it.”